


Agnosco veteris vestigia flammae

by LydeNicoKITE



Series: no feeling is final (short stories) -2020 [3]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Fluff, M/M, Tags to be added, alternative universe, every chapter is a different prompt and au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27796510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydeNicoKITE/pseuds/LydeNicoKITE
Summary: 'I recognise the signs of the old flames', realising you have fallen in love again.Joe and Nicky in different universes. Collection of my answered prompts on tumblr.Chapter 1 - werewolf Nicky/vampire Joe AUChapter 2 -"What the hell is going on here?" Nicky asked incredulously.- Childhood friends/summer AUChapter 3 -“It’s always been you.”- Soulmate AU+Band AU
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: no feeling is final (short stories) -2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839736
Comments: 2
Kudos: 80





	1. is he... [a garlic lover]?

Dating a werewolf came with unexpected elements. It wasn’t Joe’s fault that society was built so that vampires and werewolves could coexist by ignoring the other faction, it was to be expected that he didn’t know some things. Nicky wasn’t any better, he’d believed the stories about garlic —Joe had laughed until he had tears in his eyes when he’d seen Nicky hurriedly hiding garlic the first time he’d had Joe home.

They were both learning. Some things were bad, like Joe gasping for air because he’d entered a place uninvited and suddenly he couldn’t breathe —as if he still had to breathe to survive, which hadn’t been true for a few centuries, but still—, or when one of Joe’s colleagues had thrown silver dust in Nicky’s eyes because he didn’t know he was Joe’s guest. Nicky had spent a week without seeing, with tears of silver trickling down his cheecks burning the skin, filling the air with the smell of rotten and burnt flesh.

Other things were just Nicky and Joe’s, without fangs and fur and the moon thrown in the middle. Nicky didn’t like when Yusuf didn’t text back because then he got worried, Yusuf hated Nicky’s whistling in the mornings. They once fought when they were ordering food, because they were idiots: apparently Nicky believed that place was Yusuf’s favourite, so he didn’t want to confess he hated how they cooked meat there. Yusuf had believed the same, and the wine-blood there tasted like swamp water.

But other things were nice. Like waking up and finding a huge wolf sleeping on him on the sofa, a low happy growl as the only sound to fill the room.

It was 3am and it wasn’t a full moon, even if it was a few days away. Yusuf knew because he had been researching, and because with the arrival full moon Nicky’s shoulders seemed to get even broader, making his terrible blazers and sweaters look even more ridiculous. Joe wanted to make Nicky enough elegant clothes and suits to last a lifetime, but Nicky loved his awful sweaters. (Yusuf planned to act his plan it slowly, burning one item at a time.)

Full moon meant Nicky would have to leave for a few days, with Nile and Andy assuring Joe that they would never let anything happen to Nicky. Joe _knew_ that Nicky had survived for almost a hundred years without him, but how could he not worry?

As if he’d sensed Joe’s thoughts, Nicky had been affectionate and sweet the whole dinner, promising he’d come back before Joe even noticed his absence. _Impossible, it’ll be like living with no moon. And you know I love the moon._ And Nicky: _Almost like you love garlic?_

They’d fallen asleep while watching a movie shitty enough Joe didn’t feel bad if he didn’t follow the plot to kiss Nicky. (A Joe thing: he didn’t like letting a good movie go to waste. Nicky found it ridiculous, especially when his plans for a fun night went to waste because Joe wanted to watch the end of _Finding Nemo_.)

At 3 am, Yusuf woke up to find Nicky still on the sofa with him, but not human anymore. He’d read about this, of course, but he knew it was rare, he’d dismissed the possibility to see Nicky’s pure wolf form. Most werewolves partially shifted all their lives.

The livingroom was immersed in the dark and Yusuf couldn’t move, but the glow of the moon and the yellow light of the streetlights coming through the windows was enough to see Nicky’s dark grey fur, the scar over the right eye that also stayed in the human form. Nicky looked like a very big dog, with more fangs and fur, but maybe it was the gentleness of sleep that hid the deadliness of the wolf. Nicky was heavy, but Yusuf didn’t dare to move, not when he still had the Wikipedia article about full wolf shifts in his mind.

“ _The pure wolf form is rare to witness outside of a full moon pack meeting, because it requires a level of trust and acceptance that is difficult to find in relationships outside the pack.”_

Or Andy’s words a month before: _It took me a decade before Quỳnh could see my wolf form. It was scary. Don’t feel bad if it takes even more with you, being..._

Booker’s words: _A garlic lover_. It was Joe’s new nickname apparently.

Yusuf felt a bit stupid, realising he was in love with Nicky in the dead of night, Nicky snoring —or doing the wolf equivalent of snoring, _he still had to do more research_ — on top of him like a warm and deadly blanket. It felt hard to breathe, and not only because Nicky was weighing on him.

People said vampires were cold, but Yusuf had never felt himself grow cold _er_ than when he was human. He’d always had Lykon and Sebastien as companions and brothers — _misery loves company!,_ they toasted many times over chalices of blood— and love made him feel warm, even when he couldn’t feel the sun or the wind on his skin anymore. Affection was warm like a tear on the cheek. Loving Nicky... loving Nicky was like experiencing again the summer sun on a beach. It was like lying on a field and feeling the wind making the windflowers bow and brush his fingers. It was staring at the moon and not feeling alone anymore.

It was carefully running fingers through the fur and seeing yellow eyes staring at him in the middle of the night.

“Hello, my love.” Joe whispered.

Nicky didn’t look afraid.

It was waking up to a human Nicky kissing him until he couldn’t breathe.

“How can you say I take your breath away? You don’t _need_ air.”

_But I need you_. “It doesn’t matter, you have that effect on me. Now kiss me again, or I’ll tell Booker he can try to pet you.”


	2. Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "What the hell is going on here?" Nicky asked incredulously.

"What the hell is going on here?" Nicky asked incredulously.

He’d heard Nile’s voice coming from outside the house, soon followed by Booker’s laugh and a third voice he couldn’t recognise. It was barely ten in the morning but it was already hot and humid, the sky a perfect light blue. Even the few white clouds seemed static, as if it was too hot for them to move. It was the perfect weather to go to the beach and swim, or maybe play beach tennis on the scorching sand. Nile had gotten ridiculously good at beach tennis.

The house belonged to Nicky’s grandma, who loved the summer in the Riviera but loved Nicky more: she’d agreed to leave the house to Nicky “and your lovely friends” —she liked Booker, who was always polite, and adored Nile— for four weeks. It was their third day, and the house already looked lived in, Nile’s bag left by the door, Booker’s sunglasses on the kitchen table. Quỳnh was staying in the house in front of them, as it had always been since Nicky could remember, and Andy was with her. But it wasn’t Andy’s or Quỳnh’s the voice laughing with Nile and Booker.

“ _Quick, under the table!_ ”

“ _No, behind the tree!_ ”

Nicky didn’t know what he’d expect when he’d opened the door that led to the porch. But he certainly didn’t expect to find Nile and Booker hiding someonebehind their backs, someone Nile thought should hide under the table.

Booker was 1.93m —1.95m if you believed him, but only a fool believed Booker—, and at 19 he was already built like a tank, but even his figure, added with Nile’s shorter frame, couldn’t hide a guy with long legs in light blue jeans, wearing a large white t-shirt tucked in the jeans, with a _smile_ —

Nicky felt his soul leave his body, that stillness that came from shock leaving him with his mouth gaping like a dead fish.

Nile and Booker parted like the Red Sea, and there he was, Yusuf al-Kaysani, the missing piece of their group, the guy Nicolò had fallen in love with the year before after a decade of shared summers, Yusuf who had shaved his head, what a tragedy.

“Your hair,” Nicky said, like an idiot.

(Yusuf who wasn’t supposed to visit this year, thus the reason behind Nicky’s despair in the past month.)

Yusuf looked older, an not because of the hair, he had broader shoulders, he looked tan and well rested and he was smiling like he could read Nicky’s mind and found his thoughts endearing.

Nicky wasn’t breathing. Not just because of Yusuf’s looks —it was never _just_ about his eyes and his beautiful hands and the freckles on his nose— but because looking at Yusuf made all the memories and feelings rush back after the winter slumber. It had been so difficult to resist the temptation to text Yusuf during winter, but no summer crush could win against the endless list of reasons why it wasn’t a good idea to hear Yusuf’s voice, to know how his autumn days were, to listen to Yusuf’s complaints about uni. Nicky already spent his summers endlessly wishing for more. He couldn’t give up his winters as well.

Yusuf smiled and Nicky rushed to hug him, the weaker part of him happy to have an excuse to touch him after so many months of silence and emptiness. Yusuf surprised him because he hugged him back with a strength that could be mistaken for desperation, as if Yusuf had missed him too.

“I missed you,” Yusuf said, as if he could really hear Nicky’s thoughts. Nicky couldn’t find the words, but he knew his answer was written all over his face and in the way his heart was beating fast inside his ribcage.

“You got taller,” Nicky noticed, ignoring how he could feel his ears grow hot.

“Yes,” It was such a stupid thing to point out, but Yusuf just smiled, the shadow of a laugh in his dark eyes. “Other things you want to say?”

“I thought you couldn’t visit this year. I was ready to miss you all summer.”

“Oh, well,” Yusuf spoke as if for once he hadn’t expected Nicky’s brutal honesty, even if Nicky had never lied to him, he couldn’t. Joe was too important. “I really wanted to see you.”

“I mean, the see everyone.” He added quickly.

Nile snorted. Nicky had forgotten they weren’t alone, but Booker’s knowing eyes —and wiggling eyebrows— made it very clear that they had enjoyed the pathetic show of their clumsy ... whatever the hell there was between them.

“ _Sure_. We’ll go met Andy and Quỳnh, Lykon is on his way too. Why don’t you... catch up.”

“Why don’t you make out already,” Muttered Nile, sunglasses barely hiding her eye roll.

To Nicky’s surprise, Yusuf honest to God _blushed_.

“We’ll meet you by the bar,” Yusuf said, looking at his shoes as if there was suddenly something very interesting about them. Nicky wanted to kiss him. _It is just like last year,_ he thought _. Nothing has really changed. Who am I trying to fool? I thought of you every day._

And Yusuf, like he could read Nicky’s thoughts, said: “I thought of kissing you all winter.”

Nicky thought their coming together was quite swift. Andy later argued it was ten years in the making, so it was the opposite of swift. _It was like watching a snail race. Slowest lips-collision of the fucking century._ But the teasing would come later.

That day, they were so late to the beach they found no one waiting for them. It was probably better this way, Nicky thought before kissing Joe again. It was just the first day of a new shared summer. They had all the time in the world.


	3. Notes and flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: “It’s always been you.”  
> Soulmates AU+Music AU

“It’s always been you.”

Nicky froze, they’d been dancing and singing for hours, he knew that it was going to happen. During concerts he always made sure to cover his soulmark, but during rehearsals? He couldn’t spend hours every day applying makeup on the flowers spreading on his left side, under his heart, the yellow, blue and pink mixing beautifully in bright petals. Most people were born with a name inked on their skin, a small tattoo, easy to hidden. Nicky had a masterpiece of flowers, beautiful enough to rival Brueghel’s works, breathtaking, impossible to forget. He’d always known his soulmate was an artist.

They were practising the coreography for the first single of “the most ambitious crossover since the Avengers”, also known as The Old Guard, “an hazardous mix of six new faces of the music industry around the world” —Lykon liked to read articles about them out loud. Dancing with Yusuf and the others meant that it was only a matter of time before his soulmark became public knowledge inside the group. Nile already knew, because they’d worked together on a single before, Lykon knew as well being their manager: “ _It is my job to know your secrets, if you want them to stay secret._ ”

Three months before, during their first official trip as The Old Guard, Quỳnh had opened the door to Nicky’s room without knocking. They were still adjusting to the transition from being six twenty-something with promising EPs under their names to being a group, engineered to success: in those early days they were tentitavely trying to get to know one another. Quỳnh had opened the door without knocking, carrying a bottle of vodka stolen from Andy’s room as a peace offering. Before she could offer him a drink she’d seen Nicky shirtless, the flowers on his skin impossible to miss.

“What the fuck. That’s... _Nicky_ ,” Nicky remembered Quỳnh’s wide eyes, the tremor in her voice. “Nicky, that’s how Joe draws.”

 _Joe_.

The group was a clever composition of talents: Nile’s voice and soulful lyrics, Nicky’s technical musical abilities and ageless “old school” persona, Quỳnh’s stage presence and genre-bending rock, Booker’s catchy beats united with a good eye for trends and marketing strategies, Andy’s experience and undeniable charisma. Joe was supposed to bring a vibrant indie-pop imprint on the group’s music, but he was so much more than that. Joe danced flawlessly, he could use his voice to enhance the others’ with the ease of a musician with a decade worth of experience. Joe played the piano, bass and guitar as easy as breathing, with only Nicky to rival him when it came to the guitar.

Joe drew every night, even when they watched movies together as a team-bonding exercise —Lykon’s idea. Nicky had stared at Yusuf many times during those nights, taking in how beautiful he looked with the television light casting shadows on his face. He often went to bed thinking of Yusuf’s thick eyelashes and adorable freckles.

How could he have been so blind? He had a soulmark you could see from miles away drawn in Joe’s style, but most of all he’d been slowly drawn to Joe, to his dry humour, beautiful voice and.. general hotness. Joe was an artist more than Nicky could ever hope to be. Joe was _Nicky’s_ artist.

It was the worst possible news.

Since their first day, it seemed like everything Nicky said had the power to unnerve Joe. They had opposite opinions on everything, ranging from the dinner menu to the promo tour schedule. The only way they could avoid arguing was by playing together, Yusuf nodding with a growing smile when Nicky could not only replicate Yusuf’s idea, but also implement it. _Yes, like this. Maybe with—yes, exactly, Andy’s solo comes here. Do that thing again._

According to Lykon, who was definitely biased, Nicky and Joe had “unreal chemistry” when they sang and danced together. Thank God they coreographed only their signles, Nicky wasn’t as good as Joe and he preferred not to be separated from his guitar, but dancing with Joe was ... an experience. It was addictive, exhilarating, the strain of singing and dancing at the same time vanished when he could up close how Yusuf got lost in the music.

But Joe still thought of him as an asshole. Nicky’s dry comments came off as insulting, his optimism patronising, his compliments forced. It was true that Nicky hadn’t liked Yusuf at first, judging him too perfect, too talented, too stubborn, but that sentiment had faded quickly. Knowing Joe was his soulmate didn’t change Joe’s feelings, how he sent him dirty looks at breakfast when Nicky had the audacity to tell him good morning. They were getting better, they were almost friends, but it was clearly a forced friendship born out of professionalism.

When Nicky heard Yusuf’s words, _It’s always been you_ , his first thought was that maybe the secret music had been a low blow. Maybe if he’d had the courage to play for his soulmate the songs he’d composed for him, Yusuf wouldn’t be looking at him like this, scared, hurt and confused.

Instead of being honest, Nicky had left every piece of music he composed for Yusuf under his door, together with notes that were more pathetic than romantic. _I am sorry you were tired today, I hope this helps. Seeing you dance is mesmerising. I love your eyes. I think you were right when you said the first version of the song was better. I wish I could kiss you. I wonder, do you see the way I look at you? Your voice is in my dreams._

_Do you think we were destined to meet? I think so._

_I wrote this because I wanted to see if I could make my feelings music and stop thinking of you. It didn’t work._

Most melodies were short, not complex enough to become a song, but Nicky couldn’t bear to use them for TOG songs. They were intrinsecally _Yusuf’s_ , and no one else’s. And in the morning, when he looked at Yusuf and saw him smiling, humming Nicky’s melodies, he thought if it was the right choice. Yusuf had asked around if they knew who left those notes, but no one had —of course— been able to help him.

Yusuf hadn’t asked Nicky. But it was enough, Nicky kept telling himself, to see Yusuf look around with the latest note in his hands, hoping to see someone looking _back,_ revealing themselves as the secret admirer. Nicky always looked down before Yusuf could read his secret and longing clear on his face.

And now it was all over. Yusuf was looking at Nicky, where the t-shirt had gone up exposing a coloured patch of skin, the mark of a love he didn’t deserve.

_It’s always been you._

“I am sorry,” Nicky said, feeling hot on his face, and not just because of the routine. He waited helplessly to see anger twist Yusuf’s features, to recognise the broken look of betrayal.

Yusuf had tears in his eyes.

“You wrote the music, the notes.”

Nicky started to get up, he had to _leave,_ but Joe caught his wrist and there was no way Nicky could escape the intensity of his soulmate’s eyes. Joe looked on the verge of breaking.

“Yes,” Nicky closed his eyes, a coward, “I am so sorry.”

“You have my drawing on your skin.”

“I always had. It is beautiful.” _It is the best part of myself. I thought of you every day of my life, my artist. No, not mine. But the flowers are mine, at least._

“Nicky,” Yusuf was closer, Nicky heard Booker leave the room quickly, small mercies. “Nicky, please look at me. I can’t confess my love if you keep your eyes close.”

Nicky felt his heart give out, a pang that made him turn to look at Yusuf and maybe there were tears in Yusuf’s eyes, but he didn’t seem sad. He seemed _scared_.

“I have your music. On my skin. I have the chorus of _Like Destiny_ over my heart.”

“But, _Like Destiny_ came out years ago.” Nicky spluttered, heart beating fast. “It was my first song.”

“Do you know how difficult it was, knowing you were my soulmate but all we could do was argue?”

Nicky had to laugh, an undignified snort that made Yusuf frown.

“You hated _me_.”

“Who the hell talks before 9am? How are you even human?” Yusuf replied immediately, then regretted it a second later. “I don’t _hate_ you, Nicky. I never had, soulmate or not. I had a huge crush on you, maybe, and it made feel insecure when we talked.”

“You’re mocking me,” Nicky said, it couldn’t be true. “You are the most talented person I know. I was just an asshole.”

“You _are_ an asshole, sometimes,” Yusuf conceded, but he was smiling, like he was already a few steps ahead of Nicky. “But so am I. Less times than you.”

“Can I see it? The mark.”

Nicky was sure Yusuf could see how scared Nicky was, how impossible it all seemed. Yusuf took his hand and lifted the white t-shirt, but Nicky didn’t get distracted by the smooth skin and abs. He was looking at the notes scribbled in ink on a staff over Yusuf’s heart, the melody of _Like Destiny_. There was even a small “ _è destino?_ ” written in Nicky’s terrible handwriting, it seemed like Nicky himself had drawn the notes on Yusuf’s skin.

“You’re my soulmate.”

“I’m glad you could join this conversation,” Yusuf smiled. It was already Nicky’s favourite smile, a bit embarrassed but sincere, the right side of teasing. Like he already knew how ridiculous Nicky was on a daily basis but was still happy to be part of the ride. “I waited for you for a long time.”

“I have yet to be forgiven,” Nicky exhaled, Yusuf’s lips a breath away from his. He felt dizzy, and the only fixed point was Joe. “Do you think I have a chance?”

“I think you’re on the right path. Tell me again how beautiful my eyes are, or how you dreamt of me last night.”

And Nicky, who hated how much he loved Yusuf’s teasing smile, did none of those things. He kissed Yusuf, trying to make him understand what he would never be able to say properly, but would always try to tell him in his music. By the way Yusuf kissed him back with urgency, dragging him to the floor with him, it was exactly the right thing to do.

[I am not saying the story of this day has been told in five different songs, two of them earning a grammy nomination for The Old Guard, but it is easy to imagine how that happened. On the contrary, it is less easy to imagine how one of the five songs was written by Booker, with the title of “Third Wheel//Eternal suffering”. Yusuf himself had to admit it was a bop. Nicky hates to be reminded how it was nominated for a grammy, but everybody knows awards are a scam anyway. And there’s no way that song will be played at Joe and Nicky’s upcoming wedding, so Booker should really put his heart to rest.]

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr if you want, I'm @nicolodigenovas!


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